


This Is Precious Love

by dapperyklutz



Series: Give Geralt Love [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But they all ship it, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Exasperated Witchers, Families of Choice, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Public Sex, Slice of Life, Smut, Winter At Kaer Morhen, so do Ciri and Yen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperyklutz/pseuds/dapperyklutz
Summary: “Sorry, love,” Jaskier chuckles before he leans to kiss Geralt’s warm cheek. “I just love teasing them.”Geralt hums, and he meets Jaskier’s bright blue eyes with a tender expression.“Unbelievable,” Yennefer mutters.“Gross, but sweet,” Ciri states with a grin as she observes her two dads stare at each other, pretty much the same way her grandparents used to look at one another.The others grumble and make gagging noises (in Lambert’s case), but they leave Geralt and Jaskier be.Or: 5 occasions the others accidentally walked in or overheard Geralt and Jaskier being disgusting and disgustingly in love, and 1 occasion they witnessed it together and it was okay.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Give Geralt Love [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859470
Comments: 34
Kudos: 522
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	This Is Precious Love

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 Prompt: Established Relationship
> 
> All good things must come to an end. But not necessarily _the_ end. Thank you to the mods for organizing this event - it's been great participating in it!
> 
> Please enjoy reading the last fic for Geralt Fluff Week 2020.
> 
> Title is from James Morrison's _Precious Love_.

**Eskel**

He’s on his way to the library to return the books he brought with him on the Path when Eskel’s enhanced hearing picks up a peculiar sound. He slows his footsteps to be sure of what he heard, and —

Yes. Someone’s giggling, the pitch higher than normal, as if they’re being tickled. Then the giggling is followed by another voice. Lower, growlier.

Eskel’s eyes widen in realisation when he registers the voices belong to Jaskier and Geralt, respectively.

Training his ears to hear more, he listens as the bard, who’s the one giggling, speaks up.

“G-Geralt, someone could show up any moment!”

His brother’s playful growl follows next.

“Let them. It’s not like they haven’t seen us fuck before.”

Jaskier snorts. “That’s not the point, my love. As much as I enjoy our escapades around here, I don’t think Vesemir would appreciate it if he caught us desecrating his poor books. Again.”

Eskel’s brows almost reach his hairline at that proclamation, mortification and amusement warring in him at the thought of those two fucking in the library and _defiling_ the books. Books that are older than all of them.

 _Melitele preserve us, I hope they didn’t touch the poetry section,_ Eskel thinks despondently.

“Hmm,” Eskel hears Geralt hum then. Even from afar it’s easy to detect the smugness in his brother’s tone. “You weren’t complaining when Yen was here last time and I had to gag you at the back.”

Eskel groans to himself. _Fuck, they fucked in the poetry section. Godsdamn their insatiable arses._

He quietly turns around and is about to leave when Eskel hears Jaskier giggle again.

“Yes, but you weren’t complaining when I was choking on your cock, darling. Admit it, you love it every time you come down my throat.”

There’s definitely a wolfish grin on Geralt’s face when he says, “Hmm, yes, I do. But not as much as I love you, my little lark.”

 _Oh gods_ , Eskel thinks with a whimper as he quickens his pace. They still have two more months of winter left, and who knows what else those two are planning to do.

Even though Eskel is thrilled for Geralt finally finding happiness in his bard, there’s no erasing the fact that the poetry section in the library will need be disinfected. Very thoroughly.

Come to that, probably the whole library needs a good cleaning. Eskel shakes his head with a long-suffering sigh, but the small smile on his face belies his amusement on the whole thing.

~

**Lambert**

One of the joys of being at Kaer Morhen is the hot springs, in Lambert’s not-so humble opinion. After spending the whole day doing repairs at the keep, or after spending the whole morning training with his brothers and training the pup, Lambert loves bathing at the springs. Other times, he doesn’t even have to wait to be filthy in order to take a bath. He just goes down at random hours of the day and spends at least an hour soaking in the steaming, sulfuric water.

Naturally, he doesn’t get to be the only one there. Sometimes his brothers and Jaskier are there, and sometimes it’s the violet-eyed sorceress, who makes Lambert’s skin crawl. They’ve been stuck at the keep for the better part of a month now and he has only started to get comfortable around her.

 _Godsdamn fucking sorceress,_ he thinks, _so much pretense and they act as if you’re the shit at the bottom of their high-heeled shoes._

But Yennefer is different, apparently, according to Geralt. Lambert doesn’t fucking see it, but his brother’s Child Surprise adores the witch. Plus, there’s the bard — _Geralt’s_ bard, his mind corrects — who has developed a somewhat love-hate relationship with her as well. Always exchanging barbed comments and thinly veined insults that makes Lambert’s head spin because why the fuck do these people need to speak in riddles? Just say what you mean to say and be fucking done with it. There’s no need to make _conversations_ complicated. The world’s complex enough and fucked up as it is.

 _Ah well,_ Lambert thinks as he makes his make down the stairs one afternoon after doing repairs at the southern wall. He’s covered head to toe in grime and dust, his body itching to get cleaned up. _Not my problem. Besides, it’s kinda nice to have a witch on-call in case anything shitty comes up._

That was Lambert’s last thought when he reaches the double doors to the hot springs. He comes to an abrupt halt when he hears something peculiar. Brows furrowed and head cocked, Lambert listens closely for the unusual sound.

“Oh, fuck, Jas — ah, _ah_ — just like that, _ah_!”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, my love. All spread out and stretched just for me— _fuck_. My cock feels so good inside you. So perfect for me.”

 _“Jas…”_ Geralt whimpers.

Lambert feels several emotions run through him in the span of two seconds.

Curiosity. Shock. Horror. Embarrassment. Annoyance. Nausea.

“I love you so much,” he hears Jaskier moan, the telltale sound of skin slapping on skin loud even to Lambert’s ears. “Fuck, you feel so good, darling.”

Geralt groans, and his voice is like gravel when he rasps out, “Love you too— _nngh,_ fuck — you feel so fucking good, Jas.”

 _Melitele’s fucking tits,_ Lambert screams in his head, disappointment settling in his gut. _Not a-fucking-gain! This is the fifth godsdamn fucking time this week!_

Admittedly, Lambert should’ve gotten used to it by now. After all, they only get to be completely comfortable in the privacy and safety of the keep. So the fact that his brother is going all out in his newfound relationship with Jaskier should be old news. So in a way, he kind of is used to it.

Hell, he’s even happy for Geralt. He can barely recall the last time he’s seen his older brother look so… so _content_ and relaxed.

But it’s one thing to see them be all disgustingly sweet, trading kisses and affectionate touches at all times of the day. And it’s entirely another thing to accidentally walk in on those arseholes fucking each other like horny rabbits or like it’s going to be the end of the fucking world tomorrow.

Lambert has no qualms with nudity. Hell, he’s seen his brothers naked loads of times before, and he’s had his fair share of threesomes. He’s no prude, but. _But_. It’s not the same if you see your brother, or your brother’s lover, balls deep in one another and moaning and howling like fucking wolves.

It’s this thing called _public decency_.

 _Melitele’s fucking tits_.

With a frustrated growl, Lambert turns around and stomps back out the way he came from, ignoring the bard’s yelp of surprise and Geralt’s shameless chuckles in his wake.

~

**Vesemir**

Vesemir is on his way to the stables to check up on his horse when he hears it.

Rather, when he hears _them_.

“Oh fuck,” the bard, Jaskier, moans. “Geralt, _fuck_ , how’d you—”

He hears Geralt growl, and Vesemir can’t help but wince at what sounds to be a particularly hard, and rough, plowing the bard is getting this early in the morning.

“Could tell you wanted to be taken here,” Geralt grunts in-between thrusts. “My insatiable, naughty bard. Love it when you just— _fuck_ — can’t get enough of my cock.”

Even this far, Vesemir can see the wooden walls tremble from where the bard is likely pushed up against.

“Geralt, _fuck_ , Geralt,” Jaskier moans, and Vesemir’s lips curl in distaste when he hears one of his pups snarl and quicken his pace. “S-so good. So fucking good, my darling. My wolf— _ah!_ Want you to come in me.”

 _And I’m leaving_ , Vesemir shakes his head and turns around to go back to the entrance hall.

He spots Ciri skipping past the doors, an exuberant smile on the pup’s face. On any other day, Vesemir would be proud at the young girl’s dedication to her training. However, he wishes to spare her the horror of hearing or, Melitele preserve him, accidentally seeing her adopted parents in such compromising positions. Again.

“Breakfast first before training, pup,” Vesemir tells his adopted granddaughter. He chuckles at Ciri’s pout as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back inside. “Perhaps I can teach you to how to cook, hm?”

“Not like how Uncle Lambert taught me, I hope,” Ciri quips with a small smirk.

Vesemir snorts and shakes his head. Only a month and a half with them and she’s already a spitfire. Ah, she’s going to be the best of them.

“Not at all, pup,” Vesemir reassures her with a pat on her ash-blonde head. “Your Uncle Lambert is now forbidden from cooking following that incident.”

~

**Yennefer**

There’s a small indoor garden at the back of the crumbling keep where Yennefer likes to sequester herself when she wishes to be alone. It wasn’t well-kept when Geralt first showed it to her three days after their arrival, and considering that she is still healing following the Battle of Sodden Hill, it took nearly three weeks to tidy up the place to her liking.

Yennefer likes it, loves having something to herself because she’s gone so long without having something she can permanently call her own. But knowing she’s in the company of witchers, staying in _their_ property, it shouldn’t surprise her when Vesemir would visit every now and then. Truth be told, she was also quite annoyed when the bard followed her one afternoon and fell in love with the garden as well. Yennefer, whose relationship with Jaskier has mellowed considerably since then and has gone from vitriolic to something akin to a brother-sister relationship, initially hated having someone else encroach on her space. It took nearly two weeks for her to concede to allow the bard to also use the garden as his own space for composing.

She’s been in Kaer Morhen for two months now, and even Yennefer can admit, if only to herself, that it’s the most relaxing time she’s had since… well, ever, if she’s being perfectly honest. She’s slowly recovering her magic, though not to the extent that she likes. In fact, Yennefer finds that she doesn’t mind because she’s also using that time to teach and train Ciri whilst practicing what little magic she can do so far.

Which is why Yennefer wasn’t able to immediately detect that her garden is currently occupied.

She’s only taken two steps past the archway when she hears two familiar voices, one lilting and one gruff. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, and praying to Melitele that she _better_ not see those two stark naked and defiling her sanctuary, Yennefer is about to step further inside when something Geralt says makes her pause.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you here sooner,” she hears him utter like a confession. “I was… scared, I suppose.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

Huh, her two idiots are actually capable of making actual, serious conversation.

“It’s okay, my love,” she hears Jaskier reply fondly. “You don’t need to apologise. I don’t hold it against you, you know.”

Geralt hums, and Yennefer’s lips twitch in fond amusement.

“Hmm, I know,” he says. There’s a shuffle of feet and fabric, and Yennefer surmises that one of them has moved to hug the other. She would find the gesture sweet if she hadn’t seen them in various sexual positions in various locations in the keep before. “But it made me think… how much time I wasted. How much of a fool I was to keep pushing you away because I was afraid of wanting to have you, but only to lose you.”

There’s a small noise of protest coming from Jaskier, followed by a smacking sound that makes Yennefer’s lips curl.

“You big oaf,” the bard declares after several seconds of passionate kissing. Yennefer’s starting to feel discomfort at eavesdropping on such a private moment, and she knows she should make a silent exit but she’s curious to know more. “Sometimes, it makes me wonder how you can claim to not have emotions when it’s actually the opposite. You, my darling witcher, have a heart of gold— oh shush, don’t look at me like that, it’s true. You have _such_ a great capacity for love and you don’t know even see it. But that’s okay, because _I_ do. Ciri can see it, and I bet my lute that Yennefer can see it, too.”

“What’s your point?” Geralt grumbles.

Yennefer has to cover her mouth to muffle her snort because it’s so _typical_ of that thick-headed witcher.

Jaskier huffs but continues in that patient, and fond, tone.

“My _point_ is that when you feel like you’re starting to doubt yourself, on whether you think you deserve this or not, I want you to know — nay, I want you to _understand_ — that I love you. I love you with all that I am, Geralt; heart, mind, soul, and all my words — they are yours to keep and to cherish. Do with it what you will, my love, because come hell or high water, I will remain by your side.”

Yennefer is fully aware she’s not the recipient of that declaration, but she’s horrified to find herself choked up with emotion at hearing the sincerity, the conviction, and the _love_ in Jaskier’s voice.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Geralt says, but even the sorceress can read the underlying fear in his tone.

 _Idiot,_ she thinks with an eye roll. _Can’t you see your bard is making a big gesture?_

Yennefer hears Jaskier snort and then say, “Oh, Geralt. My darling, my muse, I do love you so, but you can be _such_ an idiot sometimes. I’ve been following you on the Path for more than two decades. What makes you think — now, at this point in our relationship — that I would think to leave you? Hm?”

“Jas…”

“What kind of man would I be if I abandon the love of my life, hm? Just when he needs me the most?”

“You continue to walk the Path with me, with Nilfgaard after me and Ciri, and you will never know peace for the rest of your life. We both know it’s not in your nature, Jas.”

“You think I care about fucking Nilfgaard? My love, we both know what _I’m_ capable of. If you ask me now, if you ask me to seek their army and burn them to the ground, you know I will. If it means it will keep you and Ciri safe and _alive_ , then you know I will godsdamn do it.”

Geralt makes a keening noise. “Jas, I don’t want you to risk—”

“I know, my love,” Jaskier soothes, and Yennefer’s curiosity is piqued because _what the hell is this bard capable of?_ “I know, but you know I will gladly expose myself if it guarantees your safety.”

There’s a heavy silence after that.

“I can only hope to be as deserving of your love—”

“You are, Geralt. You’re my greatest treasure, _please_ know that.”

There’s a muffled sound followed by Geralt saying, “I do know that. I love you so much, Jas. I just… I just want to…”

“It’s okay. I’m right here, darling, I’m never leaving you.”

Having heard more than she’s supposed to, Yennefer turns around and silently leaves the two lovebirds to their privacy.

Her mind is buzzing with questions, but Yennefer finds that she’s not impatient to know everything at this point. Let them have their secrets for now.

~

**Ciri**

It was one of those nights again. Granted, her sleeping habits has improved since arriving at Kaer Morhen, but Ciri still gets nightmares sometimes. Nothing too graphic, thankfully, but the faint scent of blood and acrid taste of bile every time she wakes up is not pleasant.

She doesn’t know what time it is, but going by the state of the fire at the hearth, it’s probably after midnight. That means she’s been asleep for a little over three hours.

Unable to fall asleep just yet, Ciri gets up from the comfort of her bed. She pulls on her slippers and dressing gown before quietly stepping out of her room. The draft in the hallway makes her shiver a bit, and she quickly makes her way to the kitchen to get herself a glass of warm milk. Ciri is just about to step into the entrance hall, but she halts in her tracks when she hears the familiar sound of a lute and a voice singing a sweet melody.

She peeks her head inside, afraid to interrupt the moment, and the view that greets her makes Ciri cover her mouth to hide a gasp.

There, seated on top of a thick fur rug in front of the hearth, are Jaskier and Geralt.

Jaskier is sitting cross-legged with his back to the fire, plucking his lute as he sings an unfamiliar lullaby to Geralt, who is lying on his side facing Jaskier. They’re still dressed in their clothes from yesterday, but despite her lack of witcher senses, even Ciri can feel the contentment and affection pouring off from the two in waves.

Ciri can’t see her adopted dad’s face, but she’ll bet her royal blue cloak that there’s a stupid, smitten look on Geralt’s face as Jaskier continues to serenade him.

She’s about to leave when the song ends with a last, resounding note of Jaskier’s lute.

“Well? What do you think?” he asks with an expectant look. “In three words or less.”

Ciri hides her giggle when Geralt pretends to hum contemplatively. It isn’t until Jaskier clears his throat that the other man huffs out a laugh and concedes.

“It sounds good.”

Jaskier lets out a dramatic gasp, one hand going to his chest in a theatrical way.

“This is a cause for celebration,” he says, much to Ciri’s amusement. “I should alert the others that Geralt of Rivia, _the_ Geralt of Rivia, finally complimented my music!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Geralt snorts, but it’s obvious that he’s smiling.

Jaskier is smiling too, and Ciri nearly groans out loud when he gently sets aside his lute to lean towards Geralt, who meets Jaskier halfway into a searing kiss. And from the looks of it, it’s going to become very heated very soon, and watching her two dads go at it _again_ (the first time was a scarring experience for all parties) is definitely a no-no for the young teen.

Warm milk forgotten, Ciri quietly makes her way back to her room, where she’s quickly warmed by the fire and her thick furs.

Fortunately, she succumbs to a dreamless sleep not soon after.

~

**Everyone**

“Pass the potatoes, would you,” Lambert asks not-so politely to Yennefer, who is seated beside him and rolls her eyes before handing him the plate.

“You’re welcome,” Yennefer says sarcastically.

Ciri and Jaskier snort while Geralt and Eskel sighs. Vesemir shakes his head as Lambert narrows his eyes at the sorceress.

“Thank you,” he answers just as sardonically through gritted teeth.

“You’re welcome, pup.”

Lambert growls at Yennefer’s smug smile, but before he can say anything further Geralt throws him a bread roll. The youngest witcher scowls at his brother who just rolls his eyes.

“Stop provoking her, dumbass,” Geralt states. “We’ve been here for almost three months and you’re still not used to her antics.”

“Antics?” Yennefer asks with a raised brow.

“Oh, here we go,” Jaskier mutters, looking gleeful.

Geralt gives her a pointed look. “You know what I mean, Yen.”

Lambert sniffs before he takes a huge bite of the bread roll Geralt threw at him. “Not my fault your ex is a psychopath.”

It’s Yennefer’s turn to look at Lambert with a murderous glint in her eye.

“Ooh scary face,” Jaskier comments, making Eskel and Ciri choke on their food.

Lambert and Yennefer turn in unison to glare at Jaskier, making Vesemir sigh deeply around a mouthful of venison while Geralt brings a hand to his face.

“Jas,” Geralt groans, sounding put-upon and fond. “Please stop.”

Jaskier shrugs unapologetically before grinning wickedly at his lover beside him.

“Not what you said—”

And then the whole table explodes.

“Kid at the table!” Eskel interrupts loudly.

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Ciri squeaks as she brings her hands to her ears.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Lambert swears with a groan.

“Boys,” Vesemir reprimands Jaskier and Geralt with an unimpressed stare.

“Boys,” Yennefer repeats, but with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oops,” Jaskier utters eventually with a grimace. He pats Ciri’s head from across the table, the young teen slowly bringing her hands down from her ears. “Sorry, princess. Didn’t mean to, uh, nearly traumatise you again.”

“It’s fine,” Ciri replies with a relieved smile.

“What about us, huh?” Lambert grouses as he takes a huge bite of roasted potato. “All winter, you and Geralt did nothing but fu— uh, sleep around like horny dogs. Can’t even bathe in peace sometimes.”

“Agreed,” Eskel comments next with a smirk. “I had to disinfect the poetry section at least a dozen times this winter _and_ avoid the library as a whole because you two can’t seem to keep it in your pants.”

Geralt rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but Jaskier snorts and shrugs his shoulders.

“Why keep it in the bedroom when we can make love everywhere, right?” Jaskier declares with a shit-eating grin.

“Jaskier,” Geralt groans, but there’s a smile on his face.

“For Melitele’s sake,” Vesemir grumbles.

“I’m eating here,” Lambert complains around a mouthful of asparagus.

Yennefer shoots him a dirty look while Eskel and Ciri shake their heads.

“Sorry, love,” Jaskier chuckles before he leans to kiss Geralt’s warm cheek. “I just love teasing them.”

Geralt hums, and he meets Jaskier’s bright blue eyes with a tender expression.

“Unbelievable,” Yennefer mutters.

“Gross, but sweet,” Ciri states with a grin as she observes her two dads stare at each other, pretty much the same way her grandparents used to look at one another.

The others grumble and make gagging noises (in Lambert’s case), but they leave Geralt and Jaskier be.

After all, it’s nice to see two people love unabashedly in a world that is cruel to them, especially when those two people are family.

**Author's Note:**

> It's up to you to interpret what kind of creature Jaskier is, because all I wanted was for our bard and his witcher to be together for the rest of their lives haha.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, bookmarking, and leaving kudos! I appreciate each and every single one. Thank you also for being on this journey with me this week, I had such a blast writing these stories and look forward to writing more!
> 
> 'Till the next adventure, folks! 💙💛
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://jaskierstark.tumblr.com) if you wanna say hi.


End file.
